Dreamtime!

It is my firm belief that ‘those who CAN, teach’. Equally, I would argue that ‘those who teach, should DO’. For this reason, it is a central priority of mine to continue practising my subjects alongside teaching them – and so I found myself, continually espousing the joys and benefits of reading for pleasure as I do, at the 2015 Cheltenham Literature Festival, in the children’s tent, eagerly awaiting the appearances of Judith Kerr and Michael Morpurgo. I was there to boost my own enjoyment of children’s literature, and to hopefully come away with new recommendations for my classes.

However, what instead emerged were insights into Morpurgo’s creative processes in the run-up to his writing of new books. Somewhat surprisingly, I found that the author does not enjoy the act of writing (a feeling certainly relatable, in my experience, to some students) and that his real joy is to be found in the preparation phase of writing, a so-called ‘Dreamtime’, in which music, art, sketching, reading and other creative stimuli are used to facilitate imagination and to gather together musings which might find use in the final work of fiction.

The way that Morpurgo described this preparatory work appealed to me, and reinforced the fact that the fiction writing we try to engender in classrooms is very often completely artificially constructed, and devoid of the time required for a deep and mature formulation of ideas. ‘Real’ writers rarely work under such constraints of time and space, and it is surely unsurprising that student creative writing is sometimes disappointing. Notably, Morpurgo mentioned that to prepare for writing, he reads. It is of course true that voracious readers are exposed to numerous ideas for the style and content of their own writing, and this struck me as being a major disadvantage for my Year 11 class, featuring many proud and self-professed non-readers, at the time.

Having a very short amount of curriculum time available to improve a piece of GCSE writing coursework, I took inspiration from ‘Dreamtime’ and put together an hour-long session in which I hoped to bring my sixteen-year-olds back to their earlier childhoods, in which the joys of exploration, imagination and discovery were foregrounded to a greater degree. Students entered the room, with tables pushed to the side, and sat on the floor, immediately transforming the space into something unusual. Here, they heard a dramatic monologue read aloud. Next, we went around the circle, creating a story one word at a time. After this, we moved into a corner of the room lit only by desk lamps and read a short ghost story. There followed, during the hour, further short readings, video clips, and pieces of music. Crucially, there was time allowed after each episode for students to try a very short mini creative writing task. These fragments were retained for later use.

This was designed as a one-off lesson, a bit of an experiment and certainly not something that I would advocate without a very carefully planned structure. It is impossible to measure the impact that this session had on the students’ writing, but what is for certain is that the new piece of creative writing coursework produced in the subsequent lessons was of a far higher standard, and notably featured far more interesting and exciting content, than did their initial attempts. It is purely my sense that this session, so far removed as it was from my students’ usual experience of lessons, at the very least served to alter their perspective of the task, reminded them of the playful nature and freedom of writing, and gave them licence to express their imaginative ideas, temporarily liberated from the overwhelming strictures of technical accuracy – this would come later, and indeed did come, as part of the redrafting process.

From this point onwards, creative writing was tangibly approached with a more positive mindset and students asked often for a repeat of the session. It makes sense to me that if we aim to replicate a final product which is edging towards a professional standard (and if we’re not then what is the aim?), then we ought too to try to replicate the process which leads to that product. In this way, my glimpse into Michael Morpurgo’s creative process of ‘Dreamtime’, something which has been proven to achieve results for him, was the enabling process which led to improved final products for my students.

Reading for Pleasure

It's my second year, and I now feel sufficiently long in the tooth and grey in the beard, whilst retaining a modicum of youthful verve and vigour, to state emphatically that education is tough.

Not necessarily teaching. But certainly education. 

In the year and half-term since I qualified from my PGCE there have been huge changes on both a micro and macro scale. A brief precis of such will find, nationally, the abandonment of KS3 levels (ultimately a positive though a little uncomfortable to begin with), new GCSEs, new A-Levels, new grading systems, and a new Education Secretary. Indeed, this year I find myself teaching old A-Level to Year 13, new A-Level to Year 12, old GCSE (but not quite, rather newish iGCSE) with Year 11 and new GCSEs with Year 10. 

On a more local and personal level, this same time period has seen huge change in my school, both structurally and pedagogically on departmental and whole school levels. In English we have ripped up old KS3 schemes of learning and rewritten them to factor in much greater levels of challenge, integrated grammar, consideration of theories of sequencing and interleaving, and a depth and breadth of material to make English a subject of excitement, wonder and intellectual and creative worth. Simultaneously we have reconfigured our KS3 assessment frameworks and now, imminently ahead of their first implementation, look forward to discovering how they might contribute to driving stretch and challenge for our most able learners as well as in raising standards for all. I have been fortunate enough to have been granted some responsibility for contributing to this vital and thrilling work and have, albeit with a great deal of trepidation and justifiable wondering of 'why me', thrown myself into it whole-souled. Yet, undeniably the whole thing can often be just that little bit too all-encompassing. 

Having just gone through my first experience of 'appraisal', it is a time of year wherein colleagues and I are turning to discussion with line managers about targets for the forthcoming year (lexical field of business unintended but mournfully accurate). Whatever my personal target may turn out to be, I shall certainly be maintaining an appraisal-free target of my own, the same that I set for myself at the beginning of my NQT year in September 2014:

'To continue to pursue my own interests, to make time for friends and family, and to continue enjoying life in the world outside school'

There is much publicity on social media platforms about the impossibility of achieving such an aim for many education professionals. Certainly, there is enough work to be done that, if one allowed it, the job could dominate every minute of the day. However, I subscribe fully to the argument that children deserve, nay need, teachers who are themselves interesting and well-informed people with interests which range beyond the confines of the classroom. How can we be teachers if we are not ourselves 'do-ers'?

As a teacher of English, I have enjoyed the whole school focus on literacy which we are continuing with this academic year. In particular, the renewed attention given to 'reading for pleasure' has been reinvigorating on a personal level. It is so easy, in an already crammed day, to let the daily reading schedule slip away. Even as an avid reader myself, more than once have I found myself foregoing the bedtime chapter in favour of getting an extra twenty minutes of sleep!

However, I am making it a part of my over-arching 'enjoyment' target to throw myself back into a more regular habit of reading something of my own choosing (and by that I mean something which is completely separate from my daily diet of education blogs, Twitter newsfeeds, A-Level, GCSE and KS3 texts for teaching, academic journal articles etc.). To this end, and to fully immerse myself in reading, and to give myself an extra motivation for doing so, I have recently taken huge pleasure from making weekend trips to Bath and Cheltenham for their Children's Literature Festival and Literature Festival respectively.

In the beautifully picturesque city of Bath it was a real treat to hear Joe Abercrombie, Phillip Reeve, Darren Shan and Charlie Higson (train delays sadly conspired against my booking to hear Jacqueline Wilson) enthusing about their new books and about reading and writing in general. It was wonderful to be sharing an audience space with so many school-age children who listened in wide-eyed wonder at these authors sharing extracts of their writing. On more than one occasion I found myself wishing that I had been able to bring along some of my own students - it is exactly this sort of direct experience, and soaking in of atmosphere, that could really generate the excitement about reading that is so important as a motivator. 

Indeed, my feelings along this line were only strengthened when hearing the eclectic mix of literary voices comprising Michael Morpurgo, Judith Kerr, Salman Rushdie and Melvynn Bragg at the Cheltenham Lit. Fest. several weeks later. For very affordable prices I was given insight into these writers' processes, passions and ways of thinking that were not only interesting and illuminating but also sparked ideas for how I might develop my teaching of writing. Michael Morpurgo's revelation that he does not in fact enjoy writing (!) but far prefers the stage of idea generation, what he calls 'Dreamtime', has led to a series of lessons in which I sought to instigate in my students a sense of child-like curiosity and immersion in story which I hoped would benefit their previously stilted and rather unimaginative creative work. More to come on the thinking behind this soon. 

Overridingly, I felt my own appetite for reading greatly bolstered by the talks I attended. I was excited to delve into texts which I almost certainly would not have chosen for myself before the event. Indeed, I have subsequently bought Michael Morpurgo's 'The Eagle in the Snow' and Melvynn Bragg's 'Now is the Time' and am working frenziedly through my existing 'to-do' list of reading to get onto these new offerings. Perhaps more than even this, though, was the inspiration to write which I experienced during and after hearing such impassioned and genuinely interesting people. In terms of intrinsic motivation, I have been left in no doubt at all that the more we can expose students to 'real writers', the easier our job of encouraging them to write will be. This personal conviction was bolstered by looking around the various venues and seeing a considerable number of young teenagers held enraptured by the authors - the heaving queues for buying signed books afterwards added further testimony to this.

So what can we do? Clearly, well publicised and advertised literary festivals, such as those in Bath, Cheltenham and Edinburgh provide excellent opportunity for some young people to immerse themselves, for a time, in the joys of reading and writing. It is my feeling, though, that ultimately such a movement needs to be far more geographically wide-reaching. Yes, teachers can organise visits by authors in school, and this should be done more, but I can't help but feel that the pervasive problem of access to the arts is now also applicable to literature and books. Granted, anybody can go to a library, or even trawl the often underrated treasure troves that are charity shop book sections, but without the initial motivating flame to ignite such a desire, it is few underprivileged young people that will feel empowered or indeed driven to go to such places. It is my hope that the current spirit of fringe theatre, which is seeing non-traditional venues transformed into performance spaces all over the country, may rapidly spread to the world of literature so that, at the very least, every young person has the opportunity to be inspired by something so valued by so many, and so transformative in their impact - books,  

Staying Creative

Amidst the rigours and demands of full time teaching it can be difficult to maintain a balance between what you want to do and what you have to do. At the very beginning of this year I set myself one overarching target: to ensure that I still take the time to pursue my own interests and hobbies. I am glad to have, by and large, achieved this. 

Not only will setting this time aside contribute to a more balanced lifestyle than the alternative, but I would argue that it will likewise bring associated benefits to the classroom. A teacher who leads and enjoys a fulfilling life outside of the confines of the school walls must inevitably bring back to their teaching a renewed energy and enthusiasm. 

Though my own recreational pursuits focus predominantly on musical/dramatic and sporting endeavours, I have also this year completed the latest year of my MA Ed qualification. As part of this year's module I was required to submit a portfolio of my own creative writing. Having taken a module in playwriting as part of my first degree, I was looking forward to this challenge, though not a little anxious at the demands it would invariably place on my ever-decreasing time. 

I need not have worried. Yes - I was still writing right up until the deadline but, in the main, the process was enjoyable, therapeutic, and, most excitingly, illuminating in terms of the process of actually being a writer. Never again would I underestimate the challenges faced by my students required to produce a piece of writing in artificially imposed conditions. They are not afforded the luxury of thinking time in the shower or during a run, or of critical self-reflection and improvement in a twenty minute period. Nor are they often given the opportunity to write whatever they like! An imposed structure, or suggestions for content, can be useful as scaffolding, or indeed be a requirement for certain types of technical writing, yet if this is the only writing that students are faced with, surely their motivation will suffer. My module came with a completely open brief. I could be playful, experimental and daring, safe in the knowledge that I was permitted to submit, alongside three completed pieces, fragments, beginnings and extracts. 

The focus was on process rather than product.

A whole host of implications for my teaching of writing have arisen as a result of this work and I have been reminded of a poem I wrote during my PGCE year (reproduced below). This poem simply needed to use original words formed by blending two existing ones - the writing followed a brief consideration of Blake's language in The Tyger. Other than this one simple rule I was free to use my imagination (more difficult for some than others admittedly) and be playful with my own invented language.

If my original premise was to maintain an effective lifestyle balance in order to bring benefits into the classroom, should I not also be attempting to facilitate the conditions for playfulness and safe experimentation in my teaching in which my students, and their writing, might flourish? 

Redoubled 

Toxious, angstsome, they caravalled

Flaisily through stromes of raylings.

So crimpsy proved the shadouettes

For those who stross from dayfings.

They go and still no traven found

'Neath night's new furléd mattressack.

Onwards press they, for mitric fray

Ensoaks their heartsome hack.

Never forget what sneeps revind

For loss of haith spells astion - 

And once gone doss there's no recourse...

Save superinduceration!

With novely garstered stroughts of strense

A goracious effempt instorts.

No more the mits of tripal froom

Will boldness insubort.

They change their course and back new brage,

The froathal foe to troynal.

There's one last chance: the final dance,

In this life's epsome entral.